


Big Brother's Lament

by Meiilan



Series: Big Brother Gabriel [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale/Crowley mentions, M/M, some sads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 02:28:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19862011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meiilan/pseuds/Meiilan
Summary: Just a little retelling of the history of Heaven up to the point of the Apocanah from Gabriel's point of view. A little introspection incorporating some of my headcanons about Gabriel's motivations and character.





	Big Brother's Lament

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT log: Added an illustration. Art by me.

Aziraphale used to be so sweet.

Sitting on a cloud, watching the higher ranks hang the stars in youthful awe, reaching for the newly formed nebulae with his tiny, pudgy hands, giggling with glee. They were all so cute when they started out.

“Your brethren”, God had told him, when Gabriel watched Her create angel, after newborn angel. And he had felt a warmth in his chest so beautiful, it made him cry. In that moment he swore, he would protect them.

Then Lucifer happened. Gabriel had tried to talk him out of it, had tried to reason with him. _Don’t question her. Don’t challenge her. Please, don’t walk down that dangerous path!_ It had been pointless. In the end he fell and with him many more. When Archangel Raphael read the names of those, who fell - those, that they, that Gabriel had lost - he cried again. He felt so overcome with grief, he just couldn’t keep it to himself. He must have looked awful, if the worried faces of the other archangels was anything to go by. And he felt awful, even more so for making the others worry. In that moment, he swore, he would never again let himself cry.

It would be alright, he told himself. Not all were lost, after all. He still got calm, loyal Michael, fierce, dutiful Uriel, beautiful, pure Sandalphon and sweet, sweet Aziraphale.

God had given him a sword, a flaming one. And Gabriel felt pride swell his chest at the sight of Principality Aziraphale taking up his duty in the Garden Eden. There was another feeling, too, one that tightened his chest painfully at the thought, that one day Aziraphale would have to use that sword to strike down those, who once were his brethren. Gabriel took that feeling and locked it away tightly, telling himself there was no point in feeling it.

The centuries went by and Gabriel did well. He especially did well not thinking about all the things, that made tears form in his eyes. Aziraphale grew up well, too, a bit too soft maybe, considering he would be fighting in a war some day, but Gabriel could not bring himself to try and harden the angel. There would be time for it later, Gabriel told himself.

Then the Apocalypse was about to happen and suddenly there was no time anymore. Aziraphale was still soft, in every aspect and Gabriel felt a pang of panic at the sight of it. He tried to be motivational. He tried to be inspirational. But try as he might, Aziraphale would just stay soft. And it frightened Gabriel, if sweet, soft Aziraphale didn’t harden, he would just end up like Gabriel. He would cry over the demons, he would have to strike down. He would feel miserable and weak. And a nasty voice in his head whispered: _What if that makes him fall?_

No. No, that wouldn’t happen. Gabriel refused to let that thought fester. He shoved it away, locked it up along with that dreadful feeling, he hadn’t dared taking a closer look at in 6000 years. Aziraphale may be soft, but he was good. He would never fall. Gabriel would not allow it. He would not fail to protect them again.

But the Apocalypse never came and in the end it was Aziraphale and that dreadful demon Crowley, who stopped it. What was he to do now? What was he to think of that? There was another voice, just as nasty, but at the same time sweet as honey, that asked: _Isn’t this good? Now Aziraphale can remain soft and sweet and would not have to fall for it._

Gabriel didn’t know, if it was good. He didn’t know anything anymore. He had been told for 6000 years, that this day was important, that it was the fulfillment of his purpose, that there was no avoiding it and now… it had been avoided. He turned to Metatron, as he always did when he did not know what to do. Metatron was the voice of God, surely he would know.

“Aziraphale and Crowley are at fault”, Metatron had said, “There must be an example, a measure of punishment to discourage other angels and demons from disobeying their orders.”

Yes, alright… Gabriel understood that. A punishment, he didn’t like that, but he could do that. Maybe he would write Aziraphale a rude note and-

“They must be executed”, the Metatron said. And suddenly that feeling was back and it came supported by all those nasty voices, Gabriel had ignored over the past 6000 years.

_You failed him. He will die, because you failed to protect him. You will have to kill him, because you failed to protect him AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT THAT._

_Isn’t that a bit harsh,_ he had asked, _it’s Aziraphale after all. You know him, he has always been a little soft, he probably meant well._

“It does not matter. He betrayed his duty. He must be punished for it.”

And so Gabriel could do nothing else, but tell the other archangels of the plan. They all agreed to help with that, all except for Raphael. Raphael, who looked at him with sad eyes and said: “I pray, you will not regret this, Gabriel.”

No, he wouldn’t cry. He would not worry Raphael even more. He would keep strong and face the result of his failure without a single sign of weakness.

“Well”, Aziraphale - sweet, kind Aziraphale - had said, “It was nice knowing you all.”

And Gabriel could feel it, could feel the tears threatening to burst from his eyes, to tear his heart wide open, right infront of everyone. Gabriel panicked and in his panic, he said words, that would haunt him for years after. “Shut your stupid mouth and die already.” _Please stop being so sweet. I cannot handle it anymore!_

But Aziraphale did not die. He stood in that pillar of hellfire and smiled at them. And then he spit fire at them. And Gabriel did not understand what it meant, but surely it meant things must be worse, than he thought. He would have to talk with Metatron about it later, but right now, he had to keep Uriel and Sandalphon safe from the dangers of his greatest failure. So he sent Aziraphale back to earth, agreed with him, that Heaven would leave him alone from now on and it was the most painful thing, he had to ever say, more painful even, than accepting that Aziraphale must die.

And when all was said and done and he was sitting in his office alone, a soft sound announced to him, that down on earth, Aziraphale had done another miracle. Out of reflex, Gabriel reached for the small note, that had appeared on his desk.

“Aziraphale freed a table for two at the Ritz for his first date with Crowley.”

 _Isn’t that nice,_ the voice in his head said and now it didn’t sound nasty, just tired and so, so relieved, _Aziraphale lives and he is finally free to be soft and love as he was meant to do all along._

And alone in his office, high in Heavens, Gabriel cried.


End file.
